


The Twofold Reincarnation Problem

by Toyu



Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:28:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28547901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toyu/pseuds/Toyu
Summary: Reincarnation sucks, doubly so when you're reincarnated not once, but twice in less than a minute. Well, at least I have the basics of my second life skills to use. Still, what good is magecraft in a world of shinobi mega-villains who would dissect me the moment said power is discovered? I'm doomed to die a third time at this rate...
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Of Magecraft and Ninjutsu](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24159193) by [TanZW](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TanZW/pseuds/TanZW). 



The problem with reincarnation is twofold. Either A: you forcefully take over an existing person’s body, or B: you’re reborn into a baby’s body. Me? I got both, on account of my second new body receiving a fatal wound the moment I wound up in it.

Being reborn as a teenage Emiya Shirou sucks ass, doubly so for being reborn in that specific moment. At first, I’m dying from a falling tree branch. Then, I’m running down a dreamlike, suddenly appearing, nighttime hallway. A freshly bloodied spear emerges from my chest as I stumble into Emiya Shirou’s body. I suddenly feel dull shock at the sudden burst of _why-am-I’m-not-dead_ pain.

“Eh?” I exclaim; the spear yanks back into my chest, my legs no longer working as the world goes sideways. Instead of falling on my back, thereby allowing the larger exit wound to face upward, I flop onto my stomach. This in turn allows more blood to flow out of my body than otherwise would have occurred. A swifter death than in Fate canon is probably why I didn’t hear Rin’s feet, but only notice her shadow over my body as the darkness of death greets me a second time.

When I wake up, it’s not to any familiar setting. The sudden darkness and coldness has me wailing at the realization of not dying once but twice in less than a minute. Thus, a young baby boy by the name of Emiya Shirou is born to a female blacksmith married to a retired shinobi in a small village on the outskirts of the country known as the Hi no Kuni. And with his, my own rebirth as a baby begins.

It shames me to admit it, but I wasn’t a good baby. My cries would constantly wake my parents. Which could be partially blamed on my very frequent nightmares. Burning fire, dying screams from my second life; had me whimpering in fear. But what truly struck bloodcurdling terror in me is the snap of unseen tree branches large enough to crush a car. The flash of so many blades reflecting flames that a flash grenade would have trouble being brighter accompanying the sounds didn’t help at all. When my first birthday came around, my crying would sometimes continue into the day, my eyes intently burning and the random blurring only additional reasons for me to bawl. After my second birthday, however; the constant eye pain began to fade from my eyes.

My dad, Yama Shirou, despite having retired from shinobi life when he married my mom in his teenage years, has been working as a merchant to aid mom in bringing in money to pay for bills and forge supplies. With a year of merchandizing under his belt, he’s the one who often fritted over me the most in my first year during the rare chance he was home. His stories of being a merchant were enough of a distraction to my pain and nightmares, as well as a source of information pertaining to the outside world. Sure, I vaguely knew I had been born in the land governed by Konohagakure from the visiting shinobi’s flak jackets; who are visiting our house for weapon repairs and what not. In the end though, it’s dad’s stories which serve to further cement the idea in my young mind. The realization of being in the same country that contains Konoha; and thereby the setting of Naruto, really hit home when I discover the house is situated in a small village, too tiny to be even considered a proper town. I morn the precious things now gone forever as I step outside for the first time. The act allows the sun to directly hit my eyes, the flash reminding me of the many blades in my nightmares. An ugly sob escapes me from the physical and emotional pain. My mother’s callused hand ruffles my hair as I hiccup away while rubbing my eyes, the comforting motion enough for me to break out of my flashback. Strangely enough, it also starts a sudden tugging sensation in my chest. There wasn’t any pain with each tug, and mom’s kind eyes and words were enough of a distraction from the strange sensation as well.

After distracting me with the forge she works in, I find myself spending most of my early five years helping mom out with delivering materials from the house to the forge. During most days when the forge is well-stocked, I aid dad with his merchandising work; as whenever a shinobi would appear while dad was away on a business trip, I would have to take care of the packages. Apparently, whenever a package arrived, depending on who it was going to, it would be sealed away upon arrival to our house in sealing scrolls tossed into three large crates near the door. One crate for high-ranking deliveries or ANBU packages, the second for civilians only, and the last one is where dad would put normal shinobi packages in. It’s a simple system of organization, and one I rapidly mastered. Sure, it’s a minor pain having to get the neighborhood’s only other retired shinobi to unseal the scrolls to verify the packages, but it’s better to be safe than sorry by accidently delivering a ANBU scroll to an unsuspecting, civilian customer.

Almost every day passes like clockwork. I get up, wince at the slight twang from my chest, get dressed and help mom start the forge. After that, I do the menial work around the house such as chores, fetching packages for visiting shinobi and cooking for the family or late-night visitors with pride. It’s at the end of each day I go to the forge and use it, carefully meditating before using it without any chakra, or magic, if I had Emiya’s powers here.

This time though, I began my mediation by diving into the memories of Emiya Shirou, the life I had lived for a moment, and yet also a lifetime as well. After all, all his memories were there, boxed up in the back of my mind, or maybe boxed up in the back of my soul? I didn’t know, nor care to rummage more on such thoughts, too easily being distracted with my own thoughts in my first life. Unfortunately, said trait was also carried over to my third life as well. Now, which memory is it again….

_A dark storeroom, the only light comes from the lantern next to the bearded man sitting cross-legged on the floor. Shirou peeks in, pajamas rustling with the movement. Without looking, the man speaks, a calm voice echoing into the night air._

_“Enter, Shirou.”_

_“Yes, Father. Um, what are you doing here?” the boy asks, tentatively stepping into the room, allowing moonlight to stream into the room behind him._

_“Fixing this old, dented clock of ours.” His father replies with a warm, inviting chuckle as Shirou climbs into his lap before turning himself around to watch his father as he worked. The clock itself is an analog clock, noticeably dented from one-to-many falls from Shirou’s nightmares, the most recent having caused the hour lights for the time to fizzle out._

_“Now, watch carefully.” Kiritsugu mummers as he holds the clock in both hands, warm green light flowing from the lines in his hands -magic circuits- and into the clock itself. It had taken many nights and days of pleading for the older magus to relent to Shirou being taught Magecraft_ ; _and in Shirou’s mind, as the glowing green sparkles dance along the edge of the clock, all the begging was worth it._

_“This, is a spell called ‘Reinforcement’. As the name implies, it reinforces an object, but it does so beyond just making the object stronger, it also enhances the object. Hand me the lantern, Shirou.” The green light fades from the clock, which was less dented than before, but the hour time is still missing. Shirou complies, reaching over and handing the lantern to his father’s outstretched, still-glowing hand. After the outline of the lantern and the fire glow a faint green, the light coming from the lantern noticeably increases._

_Kiritsugu chuckles at Shirou’s awed gasp, his tiny hands grabbing for the lantern as the magus brings it closer for inspection before continuing with his lecture. “Send magic through an object, and you’ll be able to gain a sense of how its structured, a blueprint or x-ray of the object you send magic through, so to speak.” Kiritsugu says as he sets the lantern down and picks up the clock again. “Once you have the blueprint, you’ll be able to use Reinforcement to turn a broken object into its previous unbroken state, in addition to the previously mentioned uses of the spell, like so.” With a flare of his magic’s green glow, the clock’s hour light flickers on, and the dent is fully removed from the clock’s surface._

_“Now according to this fixed clock, it’s far past your bedtime, Shirou.” Clock in his hands, Shirou grins up at his adoptive father, a smile full of hope etched on his face. “Someday, I’ll be as great a mage as you are, dad!” the boy chirps before scampering outside, the light of a crescent moon shining down on his path to become a hero._

The memory ends as I exhale, opening my eyes while trying to retain the important bits I needed from the memory. The spell is called ‘Reinforcement’, uh, magic channeled through object equals blueprint, is the latter required for Reinforcement to occur? Urgh, no, not again!

Just like that, some, possibly key information I had gained from the memory is lost, forcing me to dive again, replaying the memory a second time. Okay, Reinforcement is spell’s name, magic channeled through object equals blueprint of object, and blueprint is most likely required to use Reinforcement on a object, based on Kiritsugu’s wording. Reinforcement reinforces the object physically and… and… urgh what’s Kiritsugu doing with the lantern? Obviously, he is reinforcing it, but it seems to be something more than physical reinforcement, maybe the purpose of the object is being reinforced? That would explain the increased lighting from the lantern, but more research into Emiya’s memories is required to be certain.

I sigh to myself, remembering the empty notebook I had ordered would be arriving later that week. Until then, I would have to rely on my own very feeble grasp on Emiya’s memories to understand them, and possibly an explanation as to why my eyes were hurting along with my chest pain. Unlike my eyes, I kept my chest pain a secret, even from my parents, seeing as they had fretted badly enough over my eyes, so I didn’t want to burden them with it. An owl’s hoot in the distance told me how late it had gotten during my mediation. I glance mournfully at the unused forge before deciding to call it a night and go to bed, unless I wanted to make my parents worry about me staying up too late, lost in my own train of thought.


	2. My Father's Story - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peek into the pre-story life of Yama Shirou. This chapter, and the subsequent one, are due to him taking over the plot of the story and wanting his life to be told.

The ANBU code-named Weasel sits on a branch, eyes piercing the dark forest the caravan road wove its way through. While it is true the second war between the Land of Fire and the surrounding nations appears to be winding down in Konoha’s victory; it never hurt to be on high alert according to the Third Hokage. Even for something as mundane as escorting a merchant caravan. The branches across the road barely move from Bird’s landing as she alights. Weasel’s senior signs ‘no enemies’, which both relaxes and heightens the normal paranoia of her fellow ANBU. Weasel’s fingers rest on the pouch of scrolls he carries, full of carefully crafted sealing scrolls he had made himself with his own designs. The sensation calms him as he leaps ahead of the caravan, three-tomoe sharingan blazing to life in his eyes.  
A blimp of chakra ahead alerts him to the presence of a bird flock gathered further down the road. A trap of some sort? Weasel’s eyes narrow, carefully noting the slowed movement of the birds with his enhanced eyesight. Not summons, just normal birds… it’s the location they’re in and the timing which bothers him the most. A swift shadow clone clears them out as the original watches their surroundings for any ambushers. Nothing occurs. The caravan arrives at the location a minute later, Bird and Weasel continue patrolling the woods up and down the length of the wagons. Again, nothing. Bird picks up a few of the feathers lying about, bringing them to her mask for inspection. ‘Not local. Sand birds.’ She signs, as the first carriage in the caravan train halts, following a familiar thud. The sound of a dead body, hitting something solid as it falls. Several pops herald the foreign birds vanishing, roars of chakra and humanoid shapes in Weasel’s enhanced eyes telling the truth of the birds as the first carriage explodes into flames. Henges!  
Cursing in his mind, Weasel takes out three scrolls in a single unwasted movement with one hand, tossing one to Bird while unscrolling the other two in the same motion. The second is enough for the horses in the rest of the train to panic at the flames, as merchants dive for cover under an onslaught of enemy senbon needles. Which of course, gave away the enemy’s position for Weasel’s sealing scrolls. A burst of his chakra against the two scrolls causes a gatling of large fireballs to fly from both scrolls into the trees, setting plants and foes alike on fire. Bird’s own scroll releases a stream of pressurized water, which she uses as the source of her own jutsu.  
‘Water style: water dragon justu’ she rapidly phantoms, before leaping over to the non-burning wagons. Dousing the burning wagon with the justu, she turns as one of the merchants leaps from the foremost wagon toward her. Weasel notes with alarm that the amount of the man’s chakra didn’t match the amount the civilian should have had, rapidly signing the danger to Bird. Bird didn’t need his warning. The poor enemy is already crashing through the wagon the henged-merchant had left, having been slammed by the remainder of the dragon jutsu. The glint of a needle in the man’s hand is all the proof either ANBU need to label the merchant as an enemy. The henge pops, now a young woman in a white flak jacket with a shinobi headband designating her to be from Kaminari no Kuni. She groans, still alive.  
Weasel scans the area with his still activated sharingan, but there is nothing, no sign of any other living enemies in the burning forest surrounding them. Which he should probably put out. Underneath the mask, Yama Uchiha sighs as he deactivates the sharingan and takes out another scroll. It’s a simple task to release the water contained within then using the copied water dragon jutsu from Bird to put out the forest fire.  
The tiny, white scroll in his flak jacket still needs to be delivered to Sunagakure in the land of Suna. Bird already has the Kumogakure shinobi bound and gagged. Weasel takes out a scroll made of black paper; the drawn seal carefully done with lines of white and red ink. It takes a second to activate, then Weasel seals the enemy inside the scroll. The fūinjutsu he had created himself, as intended, burns the ink into the paper while coloring it black. In a minute, the scroll would appear to be unused in terms of its looks and touch from the faint traces of ink fading into the paper. Anyone with doujutsu would know the truth, however. Then again, the two ANBU and the caravan weren’t waiting around for any enemy shinobi attracted by the fire to find them. The pair of shinobi and surviving civilians leave, and the forest is still. Silence and the occasional breeze are all that happens for a few minutes, then two burnt branches pop out of existence. The two unhenged Kumogakure ANBU share a nod before they move after the caravan.

A few hours after the ambush, Weasel nods at the darkening forest edge then at the ANBU sitting next to him. Bird tilts her head, then moves to the other side of the crackling fire. Weasel activates his sharingan, and the waiting game begins. Bird doesn’t move as a Komogakure ANBU appears behind her, kunai aiming for her throat. The earth wall jutsu she has prepared slams into the chest of the enemy ANBU, sending him flying into the air. Right into the path of Weasel’s lazily flung kunai, which hits the opponent in the head, but not before the enemy flings a senbon needle at Weasel. The remaining enemy appears in front of the two Konoha ANBU, a sword rising for an overhead strike at Weasel’s head. Weasel moves slightly back, a hidden grin on his face as the blade travels along the curve of the mask and not his face. He loves this moment, the moment of shock and recognition enemies had when he bothers to reveal himself to them.

“Sc-scroll Summoner!” the enemy ANBU stutters out, before having an open scroll slam into his chest via chakra-infused kunai. The kunai’s chakra flows into the scroll, activating it. Flames fly upwards, the enemy’s body burning before falling over; very much dead. Yama Uchiha, who’d gained the title of Scroll Summoner during his pre-ANBU days in the war, snorts at the smoking body lying at his feet.

His fingers grasp a red tipped scroll and unseal it, revealing five tiny scrolls in the same color. Repeating the action to one of them reveals the same contents for all of them: an unbroken copy of his ANBU mask. Yama scratches at an old scar from a lost bet on his cheek, frowning at the mask as he turns it in the firelight. His shoulders slump as he traces the mask’s edges with his eyes, so familiar, dark, and cold in the growing shadows...

“Maybe it’s time I retire from shinobi life.” He mutters to himself, before placing the mask on his face. That’s a time in the future, after all; he still had a job to complete. The crack of a branch alerts him to the presence of an approaching merchant, a burly man he recognizes as the leader of the caravan.

“Is that the last of them?” the merchant asks while nodding at the corpse on the ground.

Weasel and Bird shrug, then affirmatively nod in reply. The civilian sighs with relief with a dark glint in his eyes. “I lost three good men today due to those other shinobi. Although, I suppose it’s a good thing, as all the important merchandise were in the middle caravans. We’ll rest here for the rest of the night, then start again at sunup to reach the border by mid-day. That is, if nothing else happens to impede our journey.”

His speech said, the head merchant ducks back to where the caravans were for some much-needed sleep of his own. The decision is made simultaneously for Bird to take the first shift of night watch. Weasel takes the opportunity for what it is and manages to catch a few hours of sleep. In fact, the most restful sleep he had had in a long, long time. The war, and the mental strain of being a ANBU were starting to wear his sixteen-year-old-self down to the point of a near constant state of exhaustion. He recognizes the burst of restful energy he receives upon waking in the grey-predawn light for what it is: a warning from his body; a cry for more permanent rest, or at least a major downgrade from his current state of life.

Shrugging the unease away, the Uchiha stands guard, a silent unfeeling stature watching the forest around them. In the same unemotional manner, he then travels alongside the caravan when it begins to move, just as he had done the day before. Just as the leader of the caravan had predicted the previous night; the caravan reaches the Konoha-Kaze border by mid-day. Nothing occurs outside of some giant scorpions passing in the distance during the trip as forest and grass transitions to dunes and sand. Eventually, the smoke of distant fires heralds the target, a decently-sized village surrounding one of the deserts many oases. The people glance at the caravan with smiles as it enters the village, the cries of children out and playing echo in the distance along with the hawking of wares being sold in the market the caravan is going to.

Weasel heads down to the head merchant’s caravan, which Bird waits in the back of. The man waves Weasel over; an open crate sitting next to him. He reaches into the crate, before speaking to Weasel. “Here, think of this as a thank you, and as an investment in your future.” His words are accompanied by him tossing a bag at the Uchiha. Its large enough to require both of Weasel’s hands to catch it at the Uchiha. Weasel nods in leu of thanks, then leaps to a nearby rooftop to seal the bag into a scroll attached to the flap of his pant pockets. It’s a simple matter of heading to the watchtower in the center of the village, delivering the white scroll to a Suna ANBU there for Weasel to complete his final mission. As the blazing sun sets, Weasel is struck by how calming it is in such a small place, a place like many others dotting the surrounding landscape. Perhaps there’s a similar village in the lands surrounding Konohagakure? It’s a wonderful idea, a lifeline to a drowning swimmer.

Two days later, after spending a day to cover up loose ends, Weasel steps in front of the Third Hokage’s desk for the last time as an ANBU. He takes out the scrolls containing the masks and unseals them, before placing his own mask on top of the closest one.

“Are you certain, Yama?” the Hokage grimly mutters, his hands steepled together with a hawk’s gaze piercing the Uchiha in front of him.

“Yes, Hokage-sama.” Yama stalwartly states.

“Then I release you from your ANBU duties. Dismissed.”

Yama bows, and leaves by using the door.

The Hokage takes a puff from his pipe, staring at the smoke rings as if they held the answers to the coming fallout. “The Uchiha clan leaders won’t like this… perhaps I can afford to be a bit forgetful in letting them be aware of Yama’s return to normal duties in my old age.”

Days turn to weeks, weeks to a single month. During that time, Yama prepares for the transition from very active shinobi life to a civilian one. Regardless of the amount he has acquired over his career as a S-Rank Flee-on-Sight shinobi, including the hefty sum from the merchant in his final mission, he would at most last a few years in Konoha. This means he requires a form of income, preferably a steady one. Besides, Konoha simply held too many scars and overly nosy people to be considered idle retirement place for Yama. His mind wanders to the village he had passed through on his return trip, it appeared quiet enough. It would work as far as a place to live; however, a source of income would still have to be outsourced, maybe a merchant’s lifestyle would work? After all, the money he had gained from the head merchant was enough to buy a cart and horse; along with a bit of supplies to trade… A word here and a word there allows Yama to discover that yes, it is enough to buy the required items, after spending a week learning the basics of the trade and gossiping about the merchant’s district.

By then, his month of leeway is over, as its then Yama sees them, the elder of the head family surrounding by other members of the military police, heading straight toward him.


	3. Yama Shirou's Story Part 2 - Family Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter about my dad, next one will be narrated by Emiya, just as the first chapter was done.  
> Yama has ISSUES, but then again so do the Uchiha.

Yama ducks into a familiar restaurant nearby, a place he has discovered is a merchant gossip paradise. Nodding at familiar faces, he moves to the bar. A short time later, the father of Itachi Uchiha, Fugaku Uchiha sits next to Yama at the bar, with two military police flanking the pair on either side.

“What does the head of the military police want with little ol’ me?” Yama inquires while signaling for a drink from the bartender.

“We’ve heard rumors that you’ve understandably retired from ANBU; and shinobi life entirely. How do you suppose the clan elders took this news?”

Yama sighs to himself as the bartender takes his time pouring his drink. He figured the clan elders would be involved in the military police showing up for him.

“Not well, I suppose.”

Fugaku sighs as well, his brow furrowing with the frown set on his face before lecturing Yama.

“As you’ve apparently forgotten; as an Uchiha, you must first reflect on your actions and how they show the clan to others before doing so. You’re young, Yama, too young to waste your potential as a civilian for the rest of your days.”

“As you did, I did my duty during the war, for both Hokages, and the people of Konoha.”

The military policeman on Yama’s other side fixes him with a burning gaze and a burning question to match.

“Not for the Uchiha clan?”

The already tense air somehow thickens with yet more tension, a scuffle near the door showing some of the more level headed civilians choosing to leave the establishment rather than stay. Yama’s reply is as swift as his signature attacks in his former job.

“An ANBU’s duty is to the Hokage and the civilians, not to their clan. Forgive me for not choosing those who couldn’t even spare a _single adult_ to look after us orphans in the war.”

Fugaku almost spites his words out at the blatant disregard and disrespect Yama shows for the clan. “War takes a toll on everyone, Yama! You still have a duty to your clanmates to allow us to make up for our blunder.”

Yama opens his mouth to retort in an equal bout of anger; standing half out of his seat with barely contained rage. A third voice interrupts from behind the group, one Yama is familiar with as a hand descends upon his shoulder, holding him in place.

“I think you should leave for a more private place to talk, shinobi; if you’re gonna yap over shinobi affairs. I highly suggest you leave this establishment. Immediately.” Says Hedo Tatamura, the head merchant from Yama’s last ANBU mission. The Military Police members all share a glare at the newcomer then one at Yama before stand up to leave. Fugaku parts with a final remark of “This isn’t over, Yama Uchiha. Remember who’s blood you share.”

Hedo takes his hand off Yama’s shoulder as the former ANBU slumps back into his seat. The merchant buys his own drink and a second one for Yama, who has yet to finish his first. The pair nurse their drinks in silence, each allowing the tension in the air and their bodies to bleed out with time. Its late evening when Hedo finally speaks, the sunset’s light casting dying rays on the alcohol-stained floor.

“You’re just a new merchant here, but also a former shinobi, so I think you should already know how to recognize when its time to cut your losses and get out of town. Even us merchants will cut ties with family members if it will save their hides and profits. There’s no shame in it.”

Yama lets out an empty laugh at the truthful statement; knocking back the last of his second drink in one go.

“Problem is, this trouble will follow me wherever I go. Fugaku had a point; my name is still tied to them.”

“Simple then, just change your name.”

Yama shakes his head in despair. “It can’t be that simple, Hedo-san. Never has been for me, and never will. Thanks for the drink, but I should go now.”

Yama stands up, only to pause at Hedo’s grip on his wrist.

“I’m still looking for a return on my investment in you, Yama. And I think I have a solution to your problem. Sit a while, and listen. You can mull over my plan after hearing this old man out.”

“Old man my ass, you merchant.” Yama retorts while sitting back down with a small grin at his words being the cause of the drunken laughter from those listening in on the conversation.

“There’s a niece I have here in the village, who works as a blacksmith nearby. Her parents died of one of those diseases that fly around every couple of years, so I took her in and raised her as my own. She’s a bit older than you, above twenty, at least.”

In a voice deader than his future as a shinobi, Yama deadpans “Hedo-san, I’m sixteen years old.”

The merchant lets out a loud chuckle before giving Yama a serious look.

“And yet you have the gaze of a man three times your age; Yama-san. You need something more than money, more than missions, or whatever it is shinobi enjoy. You need to settle down, and stop running away through work. And you need to do it before you work yourself to literal death, I’ve seen it happen to friends in the past, as good as they were as merchants.”

Yama inhales sharply at the merchant’s voiced strip down of his life contained within a few sentences. He looks away, shame burning his cheeks along with the alcohol.

“I’ll think on your offer of a possible suitor, Hedo. Good night.” Before the merchant can even blink, Yama is gone from his stool, a small sackful of coins on the bar the only evidence he was ever there. Hedo sighs, and orders himself a third drink. It would be a long night, for both of them.

Yama spends the night at his apartment, slipping inside after disabling the barriers and traps strewn about his windows and the main entrance. He scrubs at his face, wondering how his life came to this. Sure, he had graduated from the academy at the age of eight, but that was a little above the average age for graduates back then. He had joined ANBU two years later to prove his parentless worth to the Uchiha, but in that same year, the Second Shinobi War began; tossing him into bloodbath after bloodbath after bloodbath.

“Six years… Six years of war, six years of trying to prove myself to my clan; who had done nothing but ignore my accomplishments or spout them as achievements due to my _bloodline_.”

Would anyone else in his position not turn their back to the clan? Is it no surprise he found himself giving his all to those who actually focused on him as Yama and Weasel; not his other moniker or what blood flowed through his veins?

“Damn them. I won’t let them disown me; I’ll disown the clan first!” As alcohol addled his brain is; he feels as if this decision would have been reached eventually speaking; it just came sooner than latter with the liquid flowing inside him. The meeting with Fugaku is merely the kunai that finally broke the enemy’s back; as the saying went. The sneering and distain he had received from the other police at the bar was also very reminiscent of the ones he had received in his pre-academy days from Uchiha who had family. He? He had none; just another orphan among several others.

“If… if my meeting with Hedo’s niece works out… I’m leaving Konoha. And changing my name to hers… when we get married.”

Decision made, Yama collapses into bed, unaware of how rapidly his life is about to change. The woman he meets the next day with Hedo’s introduction is the spitting image of a non-Uchiha; Aimi Shirou. Tied-into-a-ponytail-hair the same color as the glowing red from her forge, calloused hands from hard labor, and easy-to-read emotions which flowed from her eyes to her lips. After a few weeks of dating her, rumors of a third war about to break out start to float around Yama. This occurs along with peeved members of the Uchiha pretending he never existed via ignoring him; or doing the opposite by openly speak harshly of him as he passed in the streets. Its enough of a sign for him to use one of his scrolls to swiftly transport Aimi’s forge – with her express permission, of course – along with the other belongs the pair bring with them to a small, out of the way village near the border.

The pair have a small marriage ceremony; with Hedo standing as witness along with the monk who ties the knot. It’s about a month later when the pair make love; on the eve of a new war about to break out. Yama imagines holding his future, a child not cursed with the expectations of clans, or shinobi life. He makes a second life-altering decision, for the sake of his child and his new future as a father.

“After the baby is born, I’ll never use these eyes; unless I absolutely need to.”

“Why?” Aimi replies with a warm smile, as she intertwines her hand with his.

Yama instinctively smiles in return before replying.

“Because of what they represent. These eyes, they’re Uchiha eyes, and I became a Shirou the moment I married you. No, even before then. In the clan’s eyes, I was cast out when I fell in love with a civilian outside of the clan. Perhaps as far as the clan elders were concerned, I wasn’t a Uchiha when I retired ‘too soon’ from shinobi life and ‘waste my potential’.”

The last line holds as much bitterness in it as the day he realized it; the night after his talk with Fugaku, a lifetime ago. And yet, watching his son grow up from a screaming infant to a mature child a bit too interested in cooking and being helpful around the Shrirou property; Yama is certain of his newfound conviction. Whatever the future will hold; his son’s future will be better than his own.


End file.
